| It takes what it takes
|
| A little vague, but I’ll make it work, thanks
|
| That’s Minnesota on the mind
|
| I know every lyric of The Decline, and sing it back
|
| Been living that, might as well know the soundtrack
|
| That blank stare that doesn’t make you care
|
| Shit, it’s not designed to make you care
|
| They bet you won’t care
|
| You don’t
|
| So I guess next come
|
| We don’t give a fuck like the anthem
|
| When giving a fuck is taking a chance
|
| Black president, hooray for history!
|
| That shit’s still totally pretend
|
| I mean, fuck sports
|
| Team on my back though
|
| Doomtree hoopty, Cadillac flow
|
| No kings
|
| Only thinking in dreams
|
| Only work for impossible things
|
| We the best in the word (wait, at what?)
|
| Wanted, wasted
|
| Who the best in the world? |
| (huh, I don’t know)
|
| We the best in the world (at getting sick)
|
| Trying to find our places
|
| I’m the best in the world
|
| At kicking it
|
| And working on some future shit
|
| I write it down for the little revolutions
|
| Peace to Anonymous, good looking out
|
| I give it up for who’s seeking the solutions
|
| Scheme for the rest of us, what’s cooking now?
|
| Straight plans
|
| Manage slim chances
|
| Damage all standards advance
|
| Advantage (ha!)
|
| And it’s hot too
|
| Who’s the boss, who on top boy, not you
|
| Not me, same team
|
| Except we don’t expect the same things, I mean
|
| All that glitters stay cold
|
| Same old story unfold, shit
|
| It’s in a black man’s soul to rock that gold, naw
|
| It’s in a black man’s soul to take a chain off
|
| It’s in a black man’s soul to roll free
|
| It seems like a black man’s role is to fold cheap
|
| And the white folks laugh
|
| But they chasing the same carrot
|
| Same debt same trap
|
| Same aim same crap
|
| Want it, waste it
|
| We stray from that path
|
| We kicks it in the haunted basements
|
| Where we all so ghost
|
| No kings
|
| Only working on impossible things
|
| Don’t worry you’re next!
|
| He said one day it’ll all make sense
|
| If you sit upon this bench and watch a train go by in a blink
|
| Think of them inside, and what their time is like
|
| And how ours stretches while theirs just shrinks
|
| Everything plus the kitchen sink
|
| Melt it down, we don’t need those things
|
| You don’t own that home, you just holding a place
|
| You keep a seat warm for your old friends at the banks (thanks!)
|
| Are we for real still sweating shampoo on planes
|
| When I done flown 100 times with a knife on my chain?
|
| Probably shouldn’t say, please ix-nay
|
| In case my laptop’s tapped by TSA
|
| Believe that babe, you ain’t keep the heat at bay
|
| Keep sweating al-Qaeda, I’m scared of the banks
|
| Keep stacking them chips, I’m piling grains
|
| It ain’t if, it’s when, cause we the best of this thing |